


Solace

by TwistedViolets



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Black Cats, Familiars, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Murder, Klaus takes lessons in witchcraft, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:47:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24293848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedViolets/pseuds/TwistedViolets
Summary: Klaus's training was always dead people this, undead that- then one day it stopped being that and turned to this plant does this and oh you need a familiar don't you?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	Solace

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I’ve seen this before? Right? Is Witch! Klaus like a thing in this fandom? I don’t read other fics in a fandom I’m currently writing in because it messes with my writing voice but- I think this was a thing at one point-
> 
> Anyway I wanted to do something with Witchcraft (Because I’ve been reading the Witcher and ah magic!) I actually have a lot planned for this and although it will be light there will also be darkness, Angst is my favorite after all.
> 
> I don’t want to spoil anything so the tags will update with each chapter so watch out for those!

Children bounced balls along the sidewalk, back and forth in front of their homes and their laughter- it's enough to make Klaus frown. His father walks beside him, glaring at the children and soon enough the children stop bouncing their balls.

They look like they could pee right on the spot just from a mere glare from The Monocle. If that's true, how would they fare against a backhand against their cheek or a yank of their hair-not very well he imagines. Yet, he fares against them daily and has not even shed a tear in years.

"What eyesores," his father mutters as they come to a corner far past the children. 

He sighs but does not comment. He'd rather not listen to another lecture on the vile beings known as children. Like he is-and really, children aren't that bad. His father just can't stand when beings aren't unable to comprehend basic subjects.

A cold wind blows by, ruffling his hair and a sweet smell rolls by, wafts through the air really. It's one that he's sure he wouldn't mind smelling like- perhaps donuts or bread. Bakeries do have the best smells but his father sticks up his nose at them at every chance he gets.

_The biggest wastes of time known to man; snacks. No other species aside from humans snack. Do you believe a lion would consume rabbit over zebra?_

Ugh- that's the only way to describe the fact that he's so used to his father's lectures he can practically hear his father's voice every moment of the day. His father's voice is always uptight no matter the subject because he knows best. 

Reginald always knows best.

"Pay attention," his father says, a moment too late, always fashionably late.

He runs straight into a fold-out sign, tripping over it, ending up in a pile of gray snow, causing his shorts to be soaked and his knees freeze over. 

When the world finally stops beneath him his right knee is burning. He leans back, pulling away from the pile gently and finds a thin scratch, like a paper cut, and god does it burn like one. 

Stupid people sweeping rocks into their snow, don't they know how dangerous that is? He groans as he stands, listening to the subtle tapping of wood against concrete, cane against the sidewalk, his father is impatient. 

"Number Four," His father's voice is harsh, like glass, and it cuts so deep that for a moment his body burns with embarrassment. Right, he's a disappointment, always has been compared to his siblings.

Luther would not have tripped over a simple sign, he's a leader, confident and strong. He is always looking ahead, never behind, and of course, he's always at their father's beck and call.

"This is about the most ridiculous thing you've done. Do you need your eyes checked?"

"No, sir."

He dusts himself off, ignoring the dull numbing of his legs as his shorts stick to his skin, the material is basically frozen against him. A small noise leaves his father one of dissatisfaction, and he prods him with his cane, slowly the wooden end peals the right short leg off his skin, leaving a hot but sticky feeling beneath as his father's gaze traces the small water droplets that run down his knees.

"It looks as if you had urinated. You should be ashamed."

He bows his head down in submission, heat taking over his cheeks without his permission. It isn't like he's really embarrassed for anyone to see...but just knowing how much shame he gives his father is enough to make his heart feel heavy.

He always means to be better but life always laughs at him.

His father points his cane back down before hitting the ground once more before continuing on walking. His coat glistens from a few snowflakes that have begun to fall, just another way the world is laughing at him.

Oh, it's going to be a long day.

...

The thing with being a child of one Reginald Hargreeves is that you never know what to expect when you're dragged out of the house for 'training.' Sometimes he'd be taken to houses that were considered haunted or to old mines or even anything remotely spooky although most of them were no more haunted than his own house...or he supposed that's not entirely accurate.

His home is more haunted than any other place on earth, if being haunted means you hear the screams of children and know nothing but the hand of a monster. If being haunted requires the real undead to be considered such, maybe it's not as bad as people see it as.

The undead can't bother ordinary humans after all.

"Please Four, haste would be much favorable to whatever that is-" his father waves a hand at him, hurrying him up, completely disregarding that he's basically freezing his balls off but- what's that to saving the world?

Stupid snow- he kicks the ground as if its too blame for his growing headache or his numbed knees or even the suddenly prickly heat that has started to radiate from his frozen limbs. He picks up the pace, going from four steps behind his father to two but no further.

They were not equals, he and his father. Klaus would never be permitted to walk beside him...that position was only ever filled by Luther, and that In itself was a rarity.

They continue traveling a few more blocks before his father finally stops and he has half the mind to stop before he runs into him but he doesn't, and when his head collides against his father's stiff back he braces himself to be backhanded.

Instead, as if a god had sent him some savior, the door of an apartment building opened and out stepped a woman, her blonde ponytail half hazardously pinned up and a smile on her lips, so blissfully cheerful it hurt to look at like, much like staring at the sun.

"Hargreeves," The woman said, tilting her head as she got a good look at him, small, and fragile compared to his hardened father. "I'm glad you've finally felt comfortable enough to bring Four to our sessions," She continues on, extending a hand out to him, a smile beginning to grow even bigger, so fake yet happy, white teeth nearly blinding him. "I'm Elizabeth, nice to make your acquaintance, Four."

Sessions? What kind of sessions?

He extends his hand out and meets her hand in a handshake, locking their palms together in a soft, sweaty shake that made him uncomfortable...mainly because the sweat was from his own hands and he was quite embarrassed.

Not that she didn't look nice but typically none of his training was ever nice so he had a hard time trusting whatever this was supposed to be.

"Elizabeth enough with the formalities," His father is practically glaring, but she doesn't even seem phased but instead laughs gently and turns around, leading them inside with a little turn of her hand.

As soon as the door is open again and he sees inside his mouth practically drops to the floor. The inside is completely consumed with forestry from vines entangling themself within every crack to flowers and shrubs flowing along the floor as grass sprouted up in between. 

It was almost like an entirely different world.

A few black cats are scattered around, one with purple eyes sleeping in a hanging basket, one with golden eyes on his stomach on the floor, and another with green eyes walking alongside a rose. It's all so beautiful and- Elizabeth inhales a great big breath before turning around again, smile even brighter, and a small purple tinkle to her hands as she snapped and a few chairs glided across the floor, three to be exact.

Elizabeth takes a seat, legs crossed, and one black cat comes to rub against her leg. Her entire look screams comfort like she wasn't even bothered at what she had done. It was almost like she had done it a thousand times before- she has a power, doesn't she?

His father takes a seat too, completely disregarding the act without even a word, which is unlike him. Usually, he'd question each and every aspect- when had it developed, how does it feel, can you use it on command- so many questions that when you answer your mouth feels sour because of one wrong syllable and you're questioning your entire existence.

"Reggie-" the woman spoke briefly before his father's eyebrow twitched his mouth curled up into a cruel smile-something he never did.

"Each day you grow closer to your demise," His father said just as Elizabeth shifted in her seat and her clothes that were bright and pink glowed and shifted into a black lace dress that dragged along the floor.

"Such a party pooper," she laughs, back of her hand to her mouth as a cat hops into her lap, and her opposite hand pets it. "I bet you've never told Four that story have you?"

"We aren't here to discuss the changing weather nor the fruits of the past. You promised me a fair deal and I do expect you to at least consider Four- he may be useless with his powers but his hands are nimble and his mind-when free from drugs- is creative and true to knowledge."

His father is volunteering him for something without even asking for his opinion- because it doesn't matter. What he thinks never mattered.

He sits down slowly, looking between his father and Elizabeth who turns to look at him with one eyebrow raised, tracing his body. "Ten years we've known each other Hargreeves and I don't remember promising you a fair deal but an exchange, equivalent that is and I don't know if I fancy this. You gain new forces for your Umbrella Academy and I what? I was indeed looking for an apprentice but-"

"I'll pay whatever you'd like," His father says, cutting her off, his cold voice making her body warm with satisfaction.

"You know me so well."

His father looks like he wants to groan but he doesn't- that's the type of behavior he yells at them for all the time, along with eye-rolling and stuttering and mumbling and- any other signs of annoyance really.

"Is it a deal then?" His father shifted, hands-on his cane clenching as his father pretended to have some air of friendliness. 

"It is," she says, a hand extending out and his father's raises at that moment to meet and as their handshake comes together a contract is formed and- a blue glow flickers for a moment before disappearing and- the woman turns to him, smiling so sweetly like his mother was prone to.

"We will meet three days of the week, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. There is much of the basics you must learn and we can't rush that but- I have faith you'll do just fine."

He nods but in all honesty, he doesn't know what to think about this- or anything really. What was she? What was he being trained for? To be like her? To gain new powers? What was he supposed to think about this?

Elizabeth and his father continue to speak but he spaces out- consumed by the thought of what kind of hell his father had signed him up for- although nothing could be worse than the mausoleum- at least he doesn't think so.

...

"Just who was she?" He questions his father as they walk back home and he doesn't expect an answer-in fact he would probably be more likely to get a scolding or a bruise on his cheek for being so bold.

"A witch-" his father says it like it's nothing but a common occurrence, like the shifting of weather, like it isn't the craziest thing he's said all day. How could she be a witch? 

He thought they were just fairytales...but he did see her with black cats and she definitely did have powers but what was he supposed to think? That she had magic or something? That those cats were her familiars?

And now what? He's going to get trained to be a 'witch' too?

"She's nearly a century old and feisty. The witch culture is dying with the modern age unfortunately and witches have begun fighting with one another. Elizabeth has already killed two of her own kind, stealing their familiars as trophies, not to worry though Number Four, she's a patient teacher."

She sounded like a psycho- she was so cheerful and happy and yet she murders her own fellow witches? and now what? She wanted to take an apprentice to make up for what she had done?

Oh, he's not too sure about any of this-or why his father is telling him other than to make him scared and uncomfortable. That's all his father ever did and he never gets over the feeling.

The dropping in his chest each and every-time his father opens his mouth.

"Number Four you will be on your best behavior for her."

"Yes, sir."

Tomorrow is Monday.

...

"I'm getting new training," he whispers to Ben during their afternoon lessons with mother. "Some crazy lady name Elizabeth is supposed to be teaching me witch stuff I guess."

"Oh?" Ben says, leaning in closer. "Does that mean dad gave up on your powers?"

He shrugs his shoulders- he doesn't even know.

"That's nice, isn't it? Didn't you hate your other training anyway?"

He nods.

Allison shushes them.


End file.
